


Power Outages

by babybasschick96



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Bat Family, Multiple Points of View, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2017-03-06
Packaged: 2018-09-28 15:26:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10128083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babybasschick96/pseuds/babybasschick96
Summary: What power outages mean to the bat family.





	

Condensation clouded the top fourth of the mirror across from Dick, but the warmth of the water cascading past Dick’s left elbow did little to deter Dick’s thoughts from the traitorous roads they insisted upon taking Dick down. Dick’s own shampoo lathered fingers reminded him of the fingers that had refused to leave his body earlier in the morning, and Dick’s nether regions ached with the memory of how himself and Jason had spent the morning wrapped all nice and snug underneath of the covers on their bed while they had worshipped each other’s bodies. Jason had been gone by the time that Dick had managed to coax himself back into the land of living after his post-coital nap—wrapped tightly in the aforementioned covers by the most attentive lover that Dick had ever had the pleasure of laying with to help stave off the harsh New England cold—and Dick had taken a moment to just lay on their bed, smiling and giggling at the fairly tale he’d somehow stumbled into, before Dick finally pried himself out from in between the sheets to seek out the bathroom for a nice, long shower.

Certainly, Jason and Dick’s lives were not always so wonderful, the shared day of was an oddity in and of itself, but Jason had stoked the fire before he’d left to go do whatever it was he was doing, and Dick had smiled when he found that there was already a towel waiting on the edge of the bathtub next to the fire so that it would be warm when Dick got out of the shower.

The remembrance of that small detail alone set Dick’s insides tingling, and Dick whined and quickly plunged himself back under the spray of water in an attempt at trying to stave off what he knew was only inevitable as memories of what happened devolved into fantasies of what _could_ have happened if Jason hadn’t promised Alfred to help around the house. Showers with Jason were _always_ wonderful, and—

Dick’s eyes snapped open as the overhead fan and the lights overhead turned off with an audible click. Distantly, Dick recognized the feeling of soap burning at his eyes, but years of extensive conditioning had Dick ignoring the feeling as he dropped into a defensive stance and stepped out to face the rest of the room.

The gale-force winds blowing snow against the frosted window over the bathtub were a good sign, but it still took Dick a moment of inactivity to push himself back up to his full height. Very few living entities knew of Dick and the rest of the family’s multiple identities, but those who did were incredibly dangerous, and only one or two of them were respectful enough to not instigate an attack on the Manor.

As soon as Dick was certain that there were no adversaries hiding underneath of the sink or behind the door to the water closet, he turned his back to the rest of the room and slid the faux stone tile aside that acted as a protective barrier to the bathroom security panel. The water still ran warm over Dick’s side and the hand wrapped around the five-inch Naval Bowie that Dick had grabbed upon realizing that something was wrong, but Dick largely ignored it as he transferred the command of the Manor to his panel and started flipping through the security mechanisms of the Manor and the Cave.

The sensors and the camera feeds around Jason and Dick’s rooms came back negative for any form of interference, but Dick had already guessed as much as Jason hadn’t busted down the doors asking what was wrong. Dick pulled up the video feed of the kitchen next, after confirming that none of the exterior defense mechanisms had been triggered on the grounds, and Dick gave his first actual choking noise of relief as he found Alfred and Jason huddled around a tablet by the sink—perfectly alive and non-in-imminent danger as they did the same thing that Dick was doing. The emergency video feed of Damian’s room quickly came next, after Dick had schooled emotions back into submission, but Dick’s worry was for naught as Damian lay asleep on his bed, completely oblivious as to what was going on around him, as Titus lay sprawled over his torso and Catfred dutifully groomed his hairline.

Gotham’s Academy for Well-Behaved Boys had been closed in anticipation of the winter storm, and Damian had taken the opportunity to sleep-in and enjoy sometime to himself as Jason and Dick were too wrapped up in one another for company and the rest of the family went about their regularly scheduled days. In any other situation, Dick would have prioritized Damian’s safety over Jason and Alfred, but between Bruce, Tim, and Jason, Damian’s room singlehandedly had more security measures in place than the entire rest of the Manor and the Cave combined, and Dick knew that they would have engaged long before Dick could have gotten himself out of his own room and down the hall to the boy.

Dick’s scan of the rest of the house slowly confirmed that the power outage had been that—a power outage—and Dick found himself given a deep sigh of relief as he leaned forward to rest his forehead against the cool stone of the shower wall beside the still exposed control panel. A small, self-deprecatory laugh escaped Dick’s lips a moment or two later, before Dick rolled his eyes at his own overreaction as he pushed himself away from the wall and set the Bowie back down on one of the built-in shelves to dry. Jason had long since stocked the Manor with the weapons that he preferred, and Bruce hadn’t argued. A majority of his guns stayed down in two separate safes in the Cave, and the ones that Jason kept up in the Manor were stored unloaded behind padlocked doors when Jason was carrying, but knives were fair game as Bruce had stashes of batarangs around the house, and Jason and Dick’s bathroom was no exception.

Dick turned his attention back to the security panel long enough to make sure that Alfred or Jason had started the generators out in the back yard before he slid the protective stone back into place and reached to the side for the bottle of his preferred conditioner.

The large boilers down in the true basement of the Manor and the fire cracking in between the bathroom and the bedroom were more than enough to keep Dick warm through the rest of his shower, and slowly Dick felt the giddiness build back up in his gut as he spread his conditioner through his hair. Power outages in Gotham only meant one thing, and that one thing—

-

The overheard light abruptly flicking off hadn’t surprised Jason all that much.

The second oldest Wayne child had been standing beside the sink in the kitchen chopping up various vegetables for dinner as Alfred washed them over in the sink, and they’d been able to see the wind and the snow out of the window overlooking the grounds above the sink. The wind howled as whipped the heavy white flakes back and forth over the bare branches of the trees, and Jason could feel the startling cold that seeped in through the elderly window panes as he and Alfred talked about anything and everything from Damian’s school schedule to old cross stitch patterns as they worked. The hearty pot roasts had been planned with the unforgiving weather in mind, and Jason had chosen two different slabs of beef to thaw the night before in preparation.  

Large piles of chopped orange carrots and light green celery and chunked potatoes of all colors grew in various bowls around the cutting board underneath of Jason’s—along with the mounds of chopped onions, the minced garlic, and the bowl of diced hand dried thyme, parsley, and rosemary—and Jason could practically taste the way it would turn out after a couple of hours sitting in the large cast iron pots on the stove. Jason and Alfred would have to be careful and make sure that they rationed the gas buried in the tank out in the yard because it would at least a solid week or two before the company could come out to deliver more given the weather, but Alfred had scheduled a fill the week previous for that very reason, and there was always the large fireplace separating the kitchen from the informal dining room that Jason could cook on, if the family got desperate or the storm last longer than had been projected.

Jason had habitually stiffened upon realizing that the power had finally cut off, and both he and Alfred had reached for the tabled interfaced with the Manor’s defense systems, but after it had become apparent that nothing was wrong, both men went back to what they were doing as if they hadn’t stopped in the first place.

“We’re going to have to light the fires around the Manor in order to preserve the heat and the pipes,” Alfred sighed as he scrubbed another potato, the sleeves of his white dress shirt rolled up his forearms in order to save them from the worst of the running water.

“Yeah, but they can wait until after we’re doing with this,” Jason hummed, the heavy knife making a loud _thunk_ against the cutting board as he cut the last chunk of celery in half before he scooped all of the cut pieces up onto the flat of his knife and dropped them down into their respective bowl. Jason had always found cooking relaxing—regardless of whether he was baking, or doing prep-work, or washing up the dishes afterwards—and working along side Alfred had only ever intensified that feeling by ten. “It should only take us another hour or so, and that way we can make sure it’s not just a false alarm. The fire’s been going in Dick and I’s room since last night, and I can start the one in here after my hands are clean. That should help stave off the worst of it until we’ve got dinner to the point that we can leave it alone.”

“The refrigerators and freezers should last that long,” Alfred more or less agreed as he handed his potato over and looked out over the grounds. The plastic and metal peeler clanked against the sink as Alfred blindly picked it back up, and a second or two later he was running the blade over the skin of another carrot as Jason started in on the potato he’d been given. “Master Bruce has applied a new program to the generators so that they kick on their own accord when the main power source fails.”

“Really?” Jason asked, though he already knew of the new timer that Bruce had installed.

“Yes,” Alfred nodded, his gaze falling down to the carrot in his hands. “I don’t pretend to know the details of it, and I still think someone should go outside and check on them every once in a while, but it the program works, it will make things much easier for us. We will only have to go out once to make sure that their exhaust vents are clear instead of having to go out once to start them and then again to make sure that they are working properly.”

“That does sound nice,” Jason mused, particularly because _he_ was usually the one who had to out in the cold and do such things. “He didn’t mess with any of the fish tanks, did he?”

Referring the giant salt-water aquariums that Bruce kept as “fish tanks” was a little bit of an understatement, but technically speaking, Jason wasn’t wrong.

“Not that I know of, but somebody should probably check those, too,” Alfred sighed again. As soon as the technology had become available, Bruce had wired the power sources responsible for the fist tanks to automatically switch over to the Cave’s backup generators whenever they lost power, but Jason wasn’t sure if Bruce had changed their programing when he’d installed the new program with the generators. “You know how Master Bruce can get when he starts to tinkering with things, and I’d rather not have a floor or an irate thirteen year old to deal with if something had gone wrong.

“I agree,” Jason snorted, popping the husk of another clove of garlic with the flat of his knife because he didn’t think that the ones he’d already minced would be enough. “The fox getting into the chicken coup a couple of months ago was bad enough.”

“You are preaching to the choir—as the saying goes, Master Jason,” Alfred gave one last small sigh as he rinsed his hands under the flow of the water and reached for the hand towel draped over shoulder. “I believe that is the last of the vegetables, unless there is something else you think we should add?”

“Nope,” Jason shook his head, reaching over to rinse the stickiness of the garlic from his fingers before he reached down for one of the few carrots that remained uncut. “Just the tomatoes, if you’re still interested in using them.”

“I think I am,” Alfred hummed thoughtfully, nodding his head a little bit as he continued to dry his hands. “Both you and Master Bruce enjoy eating them, and I think that the flavor they add to the roast would be nice on such a blustery day. It will be no hassle to grab them, and they will keep better through the cold cooked, anyway.”

“Whatever you want to do,” Jason acknowledged Alfred’s words, scooping the chunked pieces of carrot into the bowl. “I’m almost done here, though—so, why don’t you go grab those and the meat from the panty, and we can get started on searing the meat together?”

“It would be my pleasure, Master Jason,” Alfred’s eyes twinkled as he turned toward the doorway that led to the pantry.

The quiet of the room without the running water from the sink was a little weird—usually, Alfred had music running in the background as he cooked—but it wasn’t totally unwelcome as Jason’s eyes once again flicked to the window above the sink. The Manor’s grounds and the forest beyond were blanketed in an inch or two of marshmallow-y white, and thick snowflakes danced in the air as the wind bayed and hollered. Once upon a time, winters had been hell for Jason, but there was something so peaceful about the scene in front of him and the warmth that radiated from Wayne Manor regardless of the weather that Jason couldn’t bring himself to mind anymore. It was only a loud bang and its accompanying yell ringing from the pantry that brought Jason back to himself, and before Jason know what he was doing, he was dropping the knife in his hand and reaching for the hand towel on the counter as he crossed the distance over to the pantry.

“Alfred?” the elderly butler was splayed out on the floor, leaned over on his side as he supported himself on one hand and clutched at his hip with the other, and Jason quickly kicked spilled potatoes out of his way as he made to drop down at the man’s side. “Alfred, are you alright?”

“Yes, Master Jason,” Alfred waved Jason’s concern away but it was obvious that his hands were shaking, and he winced as Jason accidently shifted him in Jason’s haste to make sure that he was alright. “I just stepped the wrong way and fell—that is all.”

Jason was far from convinced, but he relaxed a little as Alfred grabbed his forearm and shoulder and used them to shift himself into more of an upright position.

“Take it easy,” Jason warned gently, leaving one of his hands on Alfred’s uninjured hip as he started a quick physical exam of Alfred’s body with the other. “Did you hit your head? Are you bleeding anywhere? Does something hurt?”

“No, Master Jason—I can assure you,” Alfred gave a small smile up at Jason as he seemed to get himself back together a little bit more. “I was just reaching for the tomatoes when I’m afraid I caught my own pant leg underneath of my shoe. There will be a bruise on my hip from where I hit the floor, but the potato drawer took the worst of it.”

A quick look around the room confirmed Alfred’s story—the wicker basket that held the tomatoes from the green house sat pulled out from the top shelf an inch or two, and the metal potato bin was overturned a little further into the pantry next to the large freezers as though it had been flung when Alfred fell to the floor—and the clarity of Alfred’s eyes helped to ease Jason some. Jason’s physical exam showed no major fractures either, and Jason gave a small sigh as his panic finally started to ebb into something more akin to relief.

“Alfie, you’ve got to me more careful,” Jason didn’t mean to chastise the elderly man and the words were fond as they left his lips, but he couldn’t really help himself either. “Do you have any idea what we do without you around here nagging at us to behave ourselves?”

“I know,” thankfully, Alfred smiled knowingly as he patted at Jason’s shoulder. “The reaction of Master Bruce alone would be absolutely dreadful—“

“ _Jason!”_ an excited yell from the hall leading to the kitchen promptly halted Alfred’s words, and a second later Jason grunted as one-hundred and eighty pounds of pure muscle, and bone, and ecstatic man-child collided with his side. “Jason, Jason, Jason! Guess what, guess what, _guess what_?”

“What, Dickie-bird?” Jason rolled his eyes, not giving an inch to Dick’s attempts to move him as Alfred’s lips quirked from where he sat watching them. Dick had thrown on a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt after he’d finished his shower, but his hair was still damp and Jason could see the poorly concealed exhilaration in the older man’s eyes as he squeezed Jason’s shoulders far beyond what would have been comfortable for a normal human being.

“The power’s out!” Dick practically giggled as he answered, and he most definitely bounced on his toes as he squeezed Jason even tighter.

“I noticed,” Jason reassured his longtime lover, but clearly that wasn’t enough of a reaction for Dick, because the acrobat gave a small little squealing noise of excitement as Dick bounced some more.

“Do you have any idea what this means?” Dick asked, and Jason would deny that his arm wrapped up around Dick’s waist as Dick’s legs wound their way up around Jason’s waist for the rest of eternity. “We get to light the fires! Bruce and Timmy and the girls and everybody else will come home and we’ll get to spend the rest of the day together! You and I can go back up stairs and go to bed if we want! We can—why is Alfred on the floor?”

Dick’s head tilted to the side like a confused puppy’s as his blue eyes flicked down to Alfred’s body as if Dick had just noticed him, and Jason gave another sigh as he reached forward to press a wet kiss to Dick’s unintentionally proffered cheek.

“Because he fell, you numbskull,” Jason’s tone of voice had fallen fond as it so often did when he was talking to Dick, and Dick’s concerned eyes snapped back up to meet Jason’s at the nature of Jason’s revelation.

“Is he okay?”

“Yes, Master Richard,” Alfred spoke up from beside them for the first time since Dick had come bounding into the room, but Dick’s eyebrows didn’t relax until Jason had validated Alfred’s answer with a small nod of his head. “Alfred is perfectly fine; he just seems to be getting a little clumsy in his old age. Master Jason has already given me a thorough exam to make sure I’m not lying, and a lecture about being more careful with my personal safety. I will probably be a little sore for the next couple of days, and forgo my aspirin as a precaution; but aside from that, I promise I will be fine.”

Dick’s eyes had flicked back to Alfred’s once he’d gotten his confirmation from Jason, and Jason watched him and his reaction just as much as Jason had listened to Alfred’s words. In spite of Alfred’s obvious joking, Alfred was important to all of the Waynes, especially the older of the two “grandsons”, and Jason was dreading the day that a short fall in the pantry was no longer a short fall in the pantry. Death and the loss of loved ones was a part of the superhero gig, but Alfred was a special one, and Jason honestly wasn’t sure how Dick was going to handle when the elderly butler finally fell from his pedestal.

“Alright,” Jason let Dick’s easy acceptance of Alfred’s assertions ease his own fears as Dick nodded his head, but Jason could also see the hidden concern in the depths of Dick’s big blue eyes and feel the unspoken distress in the still too-tight grip of Dick’s hands, so Jason bent over to press a comforting kiss to the acrobat’s temple as Dick continued to address Alfred. “Just be careful, and make sure to keep a cellphone or something in your pockets in case Jason isn’t around next time. Damian’s still in the house most days, and I’d hate for him to be the one to find you.”

Jason hadn’t even thought of _that_ complication, and he fought back a fresh wave of panic as Dick’s words brought all-too-plausible scenarios to the forefront of Jason’s mind.

“Completely understandable, Master Richard,” Alfred didn’t argue against the request, and in fact, Alfred smiled as he reached out to squeeze Dick’s forearm reassuringly. “But I think we have spent enough time on the floor, don’t you? We have traditions we have to prepare for.”

“That we do!” Dick smiled as he looked back up at Jason, and the pain in Jason’s heart eased as Dick leaned down to press their foreheads together. Jason’s right hand came up to coax one of Dick’s hands away from Jason’s shoulders, and Jason twined their fingers together and squeezed as he brought them down to rest in between their chests. “It’s going to be so much fun! I’ve been waiting all year for this!”

“Me too, Dickie-bird,” Jason allowed himself a smile as he reached forward to kiss Dick’s lips proper. “But we’ve got some stuff we’ve got to do first.”

Dick’s bottom lip pushed forward into a pout that drew Jason’s attention and reminded the younger Robin of things that had him swallowing and tightening his grip on Dick’s waist to pull Dick closer against his side, but Jason forced those thoughts to the back of his mind as he looked back down at Alfred on the floor.

“Do you feel like you’d be able to stand and finish dinner on your own?”

“Of course, Master Jason,” Alfred nodded his head, reaching for the hand towel he’d dropped when he’d fallen. “I have done more complicated things with worse injuries.”

“Alright, then,” Jason smiled, tipping his head to rest his chin atop Dick’s head when Dick nuzzled his face down into the hollow of Jason’s throat. “Why don’t you go do that, and Dickie and I will go outside and grab some wood and start lighting the fires around the house? We’ve lost a little bit of time, and I’d rather get ahead of the cold before it gets too bad.”

“That sounds amiable enough to me,” Alfred agreed with a small smile of his own. “But I’m afraid I might need a little bit of help getting up. I’m not as limber as I once was, and my _knees—_ ”

“Say no more,” Jason chuckled, pressing one last kiss to Dick’s hair before he eased Dick up off of his lap and pushed his way to his feet. “You mind grabbing his other side, Dick?”

“Nope,” Dick shook his head, fixing his ruffled pant legs before he bent down to brace Alfred underneath of his elbow and his armpit opposite of Jason. “Ready whenever you are.”

“One, two, three,” Jason counted down, grunting as he finally hit three and shouldered the majority of Alfred’s weight as he and Dick lifted him back up to his feet. Alfred faltered for a moment, the quick change in position clearing jarring him, before he got his feet back under himself and stepped free of Jason and Dick’s hold.

“Thank you, Masters,” he wiped his hands on the towel once more. “I greatly appreciate the kindness that you have showed me in the last fifteen minutes or so.”

“Sure thing, Alf,” Jason brushed off his propriety, reaching up for the basket of tomatoes as he did so. “You sure you’re going to be okay to finish dinner?”

“Of course, Master Jason,” Alfred nodded his head, reaching forward to grab the basket from Jason’s hands once Jason had brought it back down to a more reasonable level. “You remember which fires need to be lit in order to keep the Manor functional?”

“Yep,” Jason nodded his head as Dick ducked back out of the pantry with Alfred and Jason following him. “I’ll check the generators while I’m out there, too. Don’t worry about the spilled potatoes—Dick or I will come back in here get them when we’re done.”

“Alright, Master Jason,” Alfred acquiesced, and Jason was thankful for it as Dick started to pull on his winter jacket and his snow boots by the back door.

-

“This totally _sucks_!” Amber, one of Steph’s friends, complained, her voice pitching up at the end.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Steph shrugged, promptly getting out of the way of a panicked dorm mate as the brunette came hurrying down the hall. The two sophomores had been sitting in their late morning calculus class when the flickering power had finally decided to crap itself out, and their professor had finally sent them and the rest of their classmates on their way with the excuse that she couldn’t give her lecture without the computer projector working. Amber had been happy about that part of things, but she’d been complaining about the weather ever since, and it was kind of starting to grate on Steph’s nerves. “It really doesn’t seem that bad to me. It could definitely be worse.”

“ _How_?” Amber emphasized, and Steph resisted the urge to roll her eyes as they turned into the stairwell that led up to her room.

“I don’t know,” Steph rolled her eyes, huffing a breath as she actually put some thought into it. Sure, Gotham winters could be bad, but Amber had been given the opportunity to go to a school in the south if she hadn’t wanted to deal with the cold, and she’d obviously decided to come to Gotham. Steph definitely would have preferred a coed dorm, but Fulton Hall was the only building that was still open by the time she’d gotten her Room Application in, and she was (damnably) above using Bruce’s money to influence such things. Fulton Hall was more centrally located than the rest of the dorms, and Steph never had to walk very far when she ran out of tampons, so in the end Steph figured it all balanced out. The overhead emergency lights lining the ceiling were hooked up to a generator, but the cold was already starting to creep in, and Steph understood why the college was evacuating the students to the three main cafeterias until the city was able to reestablish power. “They could be kicking us all out onto the streets.”

“They would never!” Amber gasped, and Steph didn’t have the heart to tell her that they most definitely could. Instead, she just let Amber go on some more, and sent a prayer up to the heavens when another girl bumped into her side.

“I’m so sor—oh, hey, Steph!” the girl started to apologize, but gave up halfway through when she recognized Steph and realized it wasn’t really necessary. “Hey, Amber! I guess you guys heard the news?”

“Hey, Lane,” Steph greeted, reaching down into her pocket for her room key as the door to Steph’s room came into view down the hall. “And yep! Classes are cancelled for the next three days!”

“It’s awesome, isn’t it?” Lane grinned.

“Yep!” Steph chirped again, thankful that she finally had a comrade in battling Amber’s pessimism. “Thank goodness I’ve got a couple more days to finish that essay for Dr. Hover, you know what I mean?”

“Definitely,” Lane nodded her head emphatically, and Steph sent her a smile as she inserted her key into the lock on her door. “You going to stay here or are you going to head out to the Manor?”

“We’re heading out to the Manor,” Steph answered, pushing the door open to reveal an obviously still tired Cass twisting her hair into a clip at the back of her head as Steph pulled her key back out of the handle. “Hey, Cass! Did you hear the news?”

“Yes,” Cass nodded her head, turning her back as Steph stepped into the room and dropped her bag down onto her bed in front of the window. Lane and Amber lingered in the doorway out of aptness, and while Steph wouldn’t have minded them coming in, she appreciated them respecting Cass’ boundaries. “I messaged Dick to let him know we were coming home.”

“Awesome!” Steph declared as she reached down to grab the overnight bag she kept under her bed for such occasions and promptly dropped it on top of her comforter so she that could shove it full of stuff. Cass had such a bag of her own already packed on her bed, having still been asleep when the phone calls and emails had gone out because she hadn’t been in class at the time, and Steph smiled when she noticed her make up and toiletry bags already packed and ready to go on the edge of her desk. “You’re the best, Cass—have I ever told you that?”

“No,” Cass answered as she ducked into the dark bathroom to change her pants, even though Steph had most definitely told her such a thing before (frequently, in fact). “We should offer to stop by and get Babs.”

“Already planned on it,” Steph called back, quickly dropping her smaller bags down into her bigger one before she crossed back over to her dresser by the door to grab a couple of changes of clothes and underwear for herself. Bruce had bought her the luggage set as she’d gone off to college as a sort of peace offering between the two of them, and while they were still working through their issues, Steph had definitely appreciated the gesture. On top of the most obvious practical uses, it had also been Bruce’s way of telling Steph that he wanted her to visit when she could, and Steph was just bad enough at communicating with others to understand that. Steph took a minute to dig through her drawers for a couple of different things—the fuzzy pajama pants that were so warm; that one sports bra that was so comfortable; the socks that fit the best with her snow boots—but mostly she just grabbed the first things that her hands fell on and threw them backwards towards her bed and her bag as she kept talking. “Traffic’s going to be a bitch, but it’ll be worth it. Are you going to stay here, Lane?”

“Yeah,” Lane nodded her head, her hair pushing up against the doorframe as she watched Steph move around the room like a whirlwind. Cass had definitely been a positive influence on Steph’s housekeeping abilities, but Steph was still the messier of the two by far. Unlike Amber who was from down in Pennsylvania, Lane was a local Gothamite and therefor also had the option of going home. “The apartment is going to be full enough with the twins home and Mom not at work, so I’m going to take advantage of the free vacation while I can. I’ll probably head over tomorrow or the day after just to check in, if the weather clears up, but until then I’m just staying here.”

“Good to know,” Steph nodded her head as she struggled to pull her arms out of the sleeves of her coat, making a mental note to check in on the girl to make sure that she was still okay.

“So, the Manor?” Lane asked, politely looking away as Steph pulled the sweater she’d been wearing over her head and dropped it down to the floor to deal with when she and Cass returned after the storm had passed.

“Yep,” Steph nodded, shoving her arms down into the sweatshirt she’d grabbed before she pulled the rest of it down over her shoulders and torso. “It’s kind of a tradition thing.”

“Really?” Lane’s eyebrows shot up out of curiosity as Steph pulled her hair back up out of her sweatshirt and went back to shoving her things into her overnight bag. The click of the door announced Cass’ arrival back into the room, and Steph’s eyes flashed up to note that she was already in her snow boots. The ankles of Cass’ black jeans were tucked down into the faux-fur tops of them and Steph suppressed an amused snort when she recognized the thick beige sweater that fell to Cass’ thighs as one of Tim’s.

“Must be nice out there with all of the generators and stuff,” Amber sighed wistfully.

“Not really,” Steph tried to keep her voice as neutral as possible as she grabbed two or three last minute things from her desk and shoved them into her bag before she zipped it closed, but Amber was really, _really_ starting to get on her nerves. “You almost ready to go, Cass?”

“Yes,” Cass answered, placing one last item or two into her bag before she carefully zipped it closed. “Would you like me to drive, or do you want to?”

“I will,” Steph decided, tying her scarf around her neck as she reached for the gloves that Dick had sent her when the trees around the Manor had started fading into the rich autumn red. “Sorry, to drop everything and run on you, ladies, but we’ve kind of got somewhere to be.”

“That’s quite alright,” Lane waved her apology off, and Steph resolutely ignored that Amber was pouting and looking bored beside her. “Don’t forget about that paper for Dr. Jenkins, though.”

“I won’t,” Steph shook her head, thankful for the reminder. Her jacket slid back onto her arms easily, and she reached for the textbook on her dresser as she flung the strap of her backpack back over her shoulder and slid her forearm through the handles of her overnight bag. Steph wasn’t entirely sure how, but Cass was already standing there by the door with her black peacoat over top of her sweater and her tan beret perched on top of her hair as she held her own bags and pillow in her arms. “You good?”

“Yes,” Cass chirped and calmly pushed past the two girls standing in their doorway out into the insanity that was the hall as Steph fumbled to grab her pillow.

-

_“‘Cause now I’m living so legit/Even though you broke my heart in two, baby_

_But I snapped right back/I’m so brand new, baby_

_Boy, read my lips/I’m over you”_

Steph’s obsession with Little Mix kind of concerned Babs at times—especially when Steph had stolen Babs’ phone and changed all of Babs’ ringtones to sound bits from their songs—but they harmonized well and the songs were kind of catchy, so Babs hadn’t really argued with her about it. What _really_ bothered Babs was the fact that the girls’ voices were rousing her from the dream she’d been having about a cabana boy on a beach somewhere, and Babs buried her head down into her pillow as she groaned.

_Guess I should say thank you/for the ‘Hey, Jude’s and the tattoos_

_Oh, baby, I’m cool by the way/Ain’t sure I loved you, anyway_

Babs wasn’t sure what time it was, but her dry mouth told her that she’d been asleep long enough to start snoring, and _Shout Out to My Ex_ was the ringtone that Steph had set up for herself and the rest of the girls, so it wasn’t like Babs could just ignore it. The cold air of the room sent goose bumps up Babs’ arm as she flung her hand out from underneath of her pillow to grope at the nightstand in search of the vibrating device, but her palm landed on the smooth plastic of her phone case eventually, and Babs quickly ripped it from it’s cord.

_Shout out to my ex/you’re really quite the man!_

_You made my heart break/and that made me who I am!_

_Here’s to my ex/hey, look at me now—_

“’Lo?” Babs answered the call, wincing at the cold press of the screen against the side of her face.

“Babs?” Steph’s distracted voice asked.

“No,” Babs mumbled. “’S Karen. ‘Course it’s me. Who else would it be?”

“I don’t know,” Steph huffed before she went on. “I take it the grumpiness means you were asleep?”

“’M not grumpy,” Babs scowled.

“Yes, you are,” Steph declared, before suddenly her voice was muffled and she was cussing. “Hey! I’m driving here—see this gigantic-ass Cadillac? Yeah, that’s my car—“

“Steph’nie,” Babs buried her face back into her pillow as she groaned again.

“Oh, right—sorry, Babs,” Steph apologized, sounding sheepish as she did so, and Babs could hear her turn signal dinging in the background. “Traffic’s just awful right now. Powers out in Gotham—“

“’Is?” Babs finally lifted her head up off of the pillow so that she could look around her room. Nothing was different—the Clock Tower was completely self-sustaining and the generators could store enough power to run Babs’ equipment for two straight weeks—but Babs could see the red alerts flashing across the main screen of her computer, and she scrambled for the glasses on her nightstand with her free hand as she shifted about as best as she could on the bed with both of her hands encumbered. “When’d that happen?”

“Maybe an hour ago?” Steph’s answer was as much of a guess as it was based in fact. “I’m not entirely sure, but Cass and I are on our way over now, if you’re interested in hitching a ride with us out to the Manor. It’s going to take us awhile to get there, because—like I said—traffic is horrible, but we’ve got more than enough room in the Caddie, even with all of the tech stuff you’re going to insist upon bringing.”

“Stephanie Brown, I use that “tech stuff” to protect your life—“

“Yeah, yeah,” Babs could hear Steph roll her eyes as she finally located her glasses and guided them up onto the bridge of her nose. A stack of paper sat in the tray of the printer on her nightstand and she dutifully picked it up and started flipping through the pages as Steph went on. “You want a ride or not? Boy Blunder Number One has got his panties all in a twist about who all’s going to be back at the Manor, and I’m pretty sure a nice heated car ride with Cass and I would be better than whatever it is he’s got in mind for you—“

“Yeah, I’d appreciate the ride,” Babs rolled her eyes as images of grappling across Gotham in near-subzero weather while strapped into an adult-sized Baby Bjorn flashed through her mind. “Any idea how long it’s going to be before you get here?”

“Hard to say,” Steph hummed harshly, undoubtedly pursuing her lips as she rounded a corner. “Probably another hour or so, though it might be a little less—especially if Cass gives up and starts letting me beat the shit out of these dumbasses who don’t understand how turn signals work.”

“I regret letting Zatanna teach you how to drive,” Babs sighed, dropping the papers back down onto the open space of the nightstand. “Alright, I’ll be ready when you get here—just be careful driving.”

“Sure thing, Babs!” Steph promised. “See you in a little bit.”

Babs hung up the phone and stared at it for a second or two, before she dropped it down onto the corner of her bed and face planted back down into her pillow.

“Ow,” she groaned and rolled to the side as her glasses pushed uncomfortably against the inside corners of her eyes.

-

“You know, I’ve always wanted to learn how to speak German?”

“You mean you don’t already know?” Tim furrowed his eyebrows, tilting the side of his head over against the denim covering Kon’s shins.

“Nope,” Kon shook his head, biting the head off of yet another gummy worm.

Tim had come into the office to take a phone call with some associates in Germany, but it had finished two hours earlier than expected, so Tim was just hanging out with Kon in one of the more public meeting rooms as he attempted to bully people into going home early due to the weather and helped the crisis managers set up their temporary command center. Somehow Kon had maneuvered the desk chairs that Tim and Kon were sitting in until they were facing each other, and some where along the line they’d started using each other’s back rests as foot rests.

“I mean—like—I know _words_ and _phrases_ , but I’ve never sat down and sorted my way through the conjugation of the verbs and all of those kinds of things.”

“I guess I can understand that,” Tim mused as he thought about Kon’s words. “But knowing German really helps—it explains a lot of things about the English language and makes learning the rest of the Germanic languages like Norwegian and Swedish so much easier. I originally started taking classes back in high school, but those were just absolutely awful, so I found myself a couple of self-teaching books and CDs, and they really helped. I guess I could probably teach you now, if you were really interested.”

“I would like that,” Kon fingers tugged on Tim’s hand as Kon took another bite of the gummy worm in his free hand, and Tim found himself smiling as he pressed in closer to Kon’s legs and sides. Most of the headquarters’ generators were attached to the labs and the cafeterias in order to preserve the research and the stores of food, but the rest of the building was given limited heat and lit with emergency lights, so a normal person probably would have been fine. Tim had never produced enough body heat, though—byproduct of being so small and not having enough body fat—and Kon radiated the stuff as if he was a small source of energy himself (which, he admittedly kind of was). “You always have a way of seeing the beauty in things that I don’t, and I would just love it if—“

_“I need a hero! (Hero!)/I’m holding out for a hero ‘til the morning light!”_

“Oh, god,” Tim rolled his eyes, reaching down for the cell phone in his lap.

_“He’s got to be sure/And it’s got to be soon_

_And he’s got to be larger than life! (Larger than life!)”_

“Who’s ringtone is that?” one of the other men in the room—Sampson, the manager in charge of making sure that Gotham’s emergency phone lines were still functional—looked around the room in obvious disbelief and disgust.

“Dick’s,” Tim sighed, confirming with a look down at the screen, that yes, his eldest brother was calling him. Kon snickered across from him and Tim landed a soft punch to the side of his shin, but quickly answered the call before any more of the ringtone could play. “Hello?”

“Timmy!” Dick bubbled, clearly excited about something. “My baby bird, my little love, my one and only favorite not-youngest brother—how are you?”

“I’m great, Dick,” Tim rolled his eyes towards the heavens as he resisted the urge to sigh. “How are you?”

“Oh, I’m great,” Dick hummed, and Tim could just see him nodding his head on the other side of the call as he paced around some room of the Manor. “Alfred took a little spill-sy earlier, but Jay-Jay and I got him up and he’s fine, and I’ve mostly just been running around the Manor making sure that everything is okay while Jason and Alfred worry about getting everything ready for dinner, but—um—while I’ve got you on here—were you aware that the power is out in Gotham?”

“Yes, Dick—I’m aware that the power is out in Gotham,” Tim answered Dick’s question patiently, pulling his feet back down from the back rest of Kon’s chair as he sat forward in his own chair. “I’m _in_ Gotham—“

“Then, why aren’t you home?” Dick’s pout was evident in his voice.

“Because some of us have jobs we have to attend to—“

“The last time that I checked, letting your boyfriend feed you gummy worms and pretzels wasn’t a job—“

“Are you spying on me?” Tim’s voice raised in pitch as his head snapped up to look around the office.

“That’s not important,” Dick quickly deflected Tim’s question and rational reaction, and Tim rolled his eyes as he slumped forward against Kon’s chest dejectedly—a warmth bubbling up in his own chest as Kon laughed and wrapped his arms around Tim’s waist comfortingly. “What _is_ important is the fact that the power is out and you’re not _here_ —“

“We’ll be heading home soon,” Tim reassured, his annoyance quickly vaporizing underneath of Kon’s hands and the anxiety evident in Dick’s tone. “The team has just gotten the emergency command center up and running, and the Relief Station managers have all reported in and have what they need, so it should only be another half of an hour or so before we can leave.”

“A half of an hour isn’t good enough—“

“I know,” Tim soothed, his fingers fisting into the fabric of Kon’s sweater as he closed his eyes tight against the sadness that threatened to swallow him whole. Tim hated the fact that of all of the family members _he_ was the one who had to work no matter what, but there were still non-emergency employees hanging around, and Tim refused to leave before they did. “But it’s the best I’ve got, Dick—I’ll help you wash the dishes tonight to help make up for it, okay?”

“…Alright,” it took Dick a moment to agree, but he finally did so with a sigh. “I’m holding you to that dishwashing thing, though. Alfred’s got a roast on the stove for us, and the smell of it is absolutely torturous.”

“I can imagine,” Tim snorted, knowing that Jason had probably helped as well. Tim spared a second to press a quick kiss to the fabric of Kon’s shirt somewhere over the Kryptonian’s sternum before he pushed himself back away from Kon and straightened himself up in his own chair. “Kon and I need to stop by my apartment on our way there to grab a couple of things, but the short way to the Manor should still be clear from all of the weather—“

In other words, Tim had every intention of dropping his car off back at his apartment building and having Kon fly them the rest of the way to the Manor after he had grabbed the bags of clothes and supplies that he’d already packed in hopes of the weather being as bad as Kon and Clark had predicted.

“—So, it shouldn’t take us very long to get there after we leave. I’m going to go ahead and do a sweep of the building to get the last few stragglers from the top floors out. The catering companies have already started setting up shop in our cafeterias and the crews are already clearing out the lower level meeting rooms so that people can take shelter in them. Two of the generators are already en route to their destinations to set up remote shelters in Wayne operated hotels, and the other three should be leaving in the next fifteen minutes or so.”

“Good to know,” Dick’s response was genuine, and Tim knew that he was keeping just as close of an eye on what was going on as Tim was. The GCPD and the other emergency services had planned well for the storm, but there was always the chance that Dick would be called in to work, and that wouldn’t be an enjoyable thing for any of the family. Jason would take to the rooftops at the very least, and Bruce and Kon would probably join him, and Tim would just be a giant bundle of nerves until they all came home. “Give us a call when you’re headed this way, okay?”

“Will do,” Tim agreed with a slight huff of exertion as he pushed himself to his feet and turned to face the mess of things he’d left spread over the meeting table before Kon had come along and distracted him.

“I love you, Tim,” Dick’s voice softened the way that it always did when he was getting off of the phone with Tim.

“I love you, too, Dick,” Tim reassured him, waiting just a second to hear Dick’s resulting sigh of happiness before he pulled the phone away from his ear and ended the call. A barrage of text messages that Tim had previously ignored flashed across the screen as it switched back to Tim’s lock screen—a picture of himself wrapped in Kon’s arms as they both smiled at the screen (a “selfie” that they’d taken to send to Dick a couple of weeks previous)—and Tim quickly read through them as Kon tugged gently on the back of his vest. “He just wanted to know when we were coming home—Cass and Steph are going to swing by and get Babs.”

“That’s good,” Kon mused as Tim shut his phone back off and started gathering his notes and pens and files back into his portfolio and pockets. Somewhere along the lines, Kon had dropped his feet from the back of Tim’s chair, too, and he was sitting with his knees a shoulder’s width apart as he leaned forward onto them. “Is there anything that Alfred needs us to pick up on our way over there?”

“No, not that Dick said,” Tim shook his head, reaching down to grab his briefcase off of the floor, thankful that he’d brought it down from his office with him. “I told him we’d get there as soon as we could.”

Obviously, Kon already knew that—he’d heard Dick’s end of the conversation just as well as he’d heard Tim’s—but it would look weird to the other workers in the room if Kon reacted as if he’d known everything that Dick and Tim had talked about, and Tim thought that it was kind of nice to just have a conversation with Kon about something he’d talked to Dick about like a normal couple would have to.

“That’s fine by me,” Kon shrugged, stretching his arms and shoulders up through the air before he pushed himself up to his feet as well.

“You guys don’t mind if I leave, do you?” Tim turned his gaze to the employees grouped around the far end of the room.

“No, I don’t think so,” Sampson shook his head, as a couple of the other workers looked up from their computers, too. Tim had been sticking around to answer their questions as they’d set up the emergency systems—and boy, was it a good thing that he had—but Tim had been talking to Kon for a solid fifteen minutes before Dick had called, and the men and women had calmed significantly since they’d first gotten started. “We seem to have everything set up well enough. We’ll be able to reach you by phone, if need be?”

“Yep,” Tim nodded his head, securing the locks on his brief case as he did so. “My work cell phone and my email should be accessible no matter what happens, but I’ve included a list of emergency numbers on the second page of the manuals you’ve each been given. Wayne Manor has three different landlines serviced by three different companies, and two satellite phones in case of emergencies. Either Bruce or myself will be on call at all times, and you will receive some form of answer within fifteen minutes of reaching out to us.”

“Awesome,” Sampson rubbed his hands together. “I think that’s all we need, then. Be careful getting home, alright?”

“We will be,” Tim promised, quickly wrapping his scarf around his neck before he reached for the coat that Kon was holding out to him. “I’ll give you a call once we get back to the Manor—keep us up to date on what’s going on. You ready to go, Conner?”

“Yep,” Kon nodded his head, his thick work coat covering his shoulders, and Tim snorted when he noticed the bag of gummy worms that Kon clutched to his stomach. “Got my gummy bears and all!”

“Good for you,” Tim gave a light snort as he reached up a hand to pat at Kon’s broad chest. “You mind walking the building with me?”

“Nope, not at all,” Tim felt one of Kon’s hands on his hair as he led the way to the door with his brief case and his coat in hand, and Tim smiled as the workers called out one last goodbye. “I would follow you to the ends of this Earth, if you’d let me.”

-

The smelly Gotham air was uncomfortably cold against Cass’ face, and the reformed assassin shivered in her boots as she rapped her knuckles against the door to Babs’ “apartment” in the Clock Tower. More often than not, Babs just slept up on the bed in her operating room unless she knew she had company coming, because it was easier for her, so Cass was half afraid that she would have to stand out in the cold and wait while Babs came down to the main level. Cass was pleasantly surprised, though, when the door opened only a moment or so later, and to reveal Babs smiling up at her.

“You weren’t waiting long, were you?”

“No,” Cass shook her head, stepping inside and reaching for the door as Babs wheeled herself backwards so that Cass had room to stand. Babs’ apartment always smelled of cinnamon and apples during the colder months of the year, and Cass had always found it comforting. “Are you almost ready?”

“Just about,” Babs smiled, turning herself around so that she didn’t have to navigate herself backwards through the entirety of the room (though, Cass had certainly seen her do such a thing before). There was a duffle bag and a laptop case already stacked in a neat pile by the door, but a second duffle bag sat open on the couch. Cass took a look around the room to make sure that nothing had changed, and aside from a shirt or two that had been left on the back of an armchair and some random pieces of mail strewed about, it was just as clean and tidy as ever. “I’ve just got a couple more things I need to grab out of the closet—you mind helping me?”

“Not at all,” Cass shook her head again, toeing her shoes off out of respect as she slid her gloves off of her hands and clutched them tightly in her left. “Is the picture over the back of the couch new?”

“Yeah,” Babs grinned back over her shoulder at Cass, and Cass returned it with a small smile of her own as she followed Babs over to the opened closet in the farthest corner before the hallway that led down to Babs’ private rooms (and the command center above). “Roy sent it to me a couple of weeks ago—said it reminded him of my failed love affair with Dick. Is Steph waiting out in the car?”

“Yes,” Cass nodded her head, stepping around Babs into the doorway of the closet so that she could reach whatever Babs needed. “She said something about…keeping it warm, and not having to park in…Bee-ef-ee?”

“B.F.E.,” Babs corrected, brushing her fingers over Cass hand comfortingly as Cass realized she had gotten yet another thing wrong. “It’s an acronym containing a mildly offensive swear word, roughly translating to mean the middle of nowhere.”

Every family member had their own way of dealing with Cass’ lack of experience with the world around her—Dick chose things at random to introduce Cass to and explained things he didn’t think Cass would understand preemptively; Bruce bought Cass both novels and encyclopedias so that she could explore at her own rate; Steph acted like explaining everyday things was a regular part of conversation; Tim ducked down and whispered things into Cass’ ear so that others wouldn’t over hear when her eyebrows pulled together in confusion or signed things at Cass from across the room when he noticed that Cass was struggling; Jason chose to focus on engaging in activities and conversations that he knew Cass could be an active participant in and used those topics to expand Cass’ understanding of the world—but Babs tended to just give the most clinical or scholarly explanations she could when Cass made a mistake or asked, and sometimes Cass appreciated that.

“Do you mind getting the _Apples to Apples_ box off of the top shelf for me?”

“The Disney one?” Cass asked when Babs went on as if Cass hadn’t messed up in the first place, studying the boxes and blankets on the top shelf.

“Yes, please,” Babs confirmed. “And the sleeping bag underneath of it?”

“Sure,” Cass chirped, popping up on her toes as she reached for the things that Babs had asked for. Constant verbal acquiesces like that still confused Cass, but most people were accustomed to having them, so Cass tried her best to remember to give them as often as she could remember. “This is new, too?”

“Yes,” Babs head tilted ever so slightly to the side, and Cass could feel the redhead’s green eyes on her as she carefully shifted the things that Babs had requested out of their respective spaces on the shelves. The game box was still in its protective plastic, and Cass couldn’t remember having seen it before, so she’d figured as such, but she was also trying to make conversation because it had been awhile since she’d talked to Babs, and she’d missed the older woman. “I got it a couple of months ago and was planning on giving it to Steph for Christmas, but I figure it might be a good way for all of us to pass time later on tonight.”

“It might,” Cass hummed her acknowledgement of Babs’ words, falling back down to her wool-sock covered heels with her bounty in her hands. “Tim and Conner would like this puzzle.”

“They would, wouldn’t they?” Babs bit her bottom lip as she eyed the puzzle that Cass had referenced thoughtfully. Cass could only see the side of the box, but the little picture showed a lakeside cabin with mountains in the background, and the price tag said that it was comprised of five hundred pieces. “Do you think it would be too presumptuous of me to bring it?”

“No,” Cass shook her head after a moment of contemplation of her own. Many of the niceties of polite society eluded Cass, but Cass was confident in her knowledge of _Tim_ , and she doubted that such a thing would offend him. “I think they would be honored that you thought of them.”

“Alright, then,” Babs’ eyes sparkled as she looked back up at Cass. “Do you mind grabbing that, too?”

“Of course not,” Cass slid the box off of the shelf and set it on top of the _Apple to Apples_ one. Babs took the opportunity of the lull in conversation to wheel herself backwards, and she turned back to the main room as Cass closed the door to the closet as quietly as she could. “Is there anything else?”

“Nope,” Babs shook her head, reaching for the boxes as she came to a stop in front of the bag on the couch. “I just need to grab my coat and stuff from beside the door before we leave.”

“Alright,” Cass nodded her head, waiting until Babs had grabbed both of the boxes before she headed back over to her boots by the door. The room was quiet as Babs zipped the bag up and wheeled herself over towards the door to do as she said she was going to, and Cass reached down for the strap of the biggest duffle bag after she’d finished lacing up her boots without even asking. “Do you mind carrying your computer bag in your lap?”

“Nope,” Babs shook her head, reaching forward for it, a knitted hat pulled down over her head and a thick wool blanket tucked around her legs. “Not at all—I’ll keep this other bag, too. Thanks for carrying the rest of my stuff.”

“Not a problem,” Cass eased as she stood back up to her full height. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yep,” Babs nodded her head, hands falling down to the wheels of her chair as Cass reopened the door and winced as the glacial air rushed in. “Let’s go.”

-

“Look, I’m just saying that maybe we should reconsider—”

“We’ve already reconsidered twice!”

“Yes, but this new piece of evidence—“

Bruce more or less ignored the rest of the League in favor of reading through the emails and reports on the “phone” in his hand. Half of the fulltime members were back on Earth, working their day jobs or taking care of their families, but Diana had called an emergency meeting to review some evidence on a compound she was investigating, so Bruce had been stuck mediating between her and Ollie as they fought back and forth about excessive force and other things that Bruce had long since stopped paying attention to. As far as he was concerned, the matter was closed. He’d gone ahead and given Diana the leeway to bring the matter up to a full council of the League the next time the entire League was convened in case the others felt differently or could add input of their own, but he’d denied her request for an immediate call to arms, and so had J’onn and Arthur. Barry was on the fence and so were Hal and John, but neither one of them had been willing to take action either. So, Bruce really wasn’t sure why they were all still sitting around.

Bruce was just thinking about closing out of his work files and pulling up a game of solitaire to occupy his mind when a notification bar popped up across the top of his screen and he smiled.

“Power’s out in Gotham.”

“Pardon?” J’onn asked from across the table.

“It’s nothing,” Bruce cleared his throat and immediately flushed his mind free of everything except the sight of J’onn and the rest of the League sitting around him as his eyes darted up to J’onn’s confused gaze, but he doubted that the Martian hadn’t already seen. “The power is just out in Gotham—I have to leave.”

“There haven’t been any calls yet,” Hal’s eyes flicked over to the large screens in front of the far window.

“No, but I need to be close in case something happens,” Bruce lied, turning his phone off and slipping it down into its protective compartment on his belt as he pushed himself to his feet. J’onn, for one, would see right through it even if he hadn’t been able to make sense of Bruce’s earlier thoughts, but Bruce hoped there was enough respect between the two of them that J’onn wouldn’t call him out on it. “I take it you understand my opinion on the matter and where my vote lies?”

“Of course,” J’onn was the first to answer, and Bruce sent him a silent thank you across the room. _Tell them I said hello._

 _I will_ , Bruce responded to the intrusive mental form of communication as best as he could, and J’onn gave a small smile in response.

“I’ll still be available to the League, if you need me—my phone and the Cave will be active. I just need to be near Gotham in case Gordon calls me.”

“Understood,” John acknowledged with a nod of his head, and Bruce gave one last look around the conference table before he turned and started to walk away. Bruce was only half way across the room when his phone started vibrating again, and three seconds later he had it back in his hand and up against his ear.

“Have you gotten the notification yet?” Jason’s voice crackled through the receiver.

“Yes, I have,” Bruce acknowledged as he continued on his way towards the Zeta Tubes. “I’ll be en route in approximately three minutes.”

“Copied,” Bruce could practically see Jason nod his head in response, and Bruce allowed himself a small smile as he started programming Gotham’s coordinates into the computer that controlled the Tubes.

-

A gigantic red fuzz ball rammed into Clark’s side as he stepped foot down onto the Cave’s floor, and the rest of Clark’s thoughts quickly derailed as Goliath pulled him to the ground. Clark had wandered down stairs with in the intention of checking to make sure that all of Bruce’s systems were still running, but obviously the dragon offspring had other ideas, and Clark was hard pressed to say that he minded.

“Hello, boy,” he chuckled once he was finally able to tell which was up, again. Goliath’s face loomed over top of him—his lips pulled back into a drooling pant as his tailed _thumped_ against the floor happily—and Clark reached up to scratch at the beast’s chin as he relaxed down against the cool concrete at his back. “How are you?”

“RrrRRrr,” Goliath gave a growling-type noise in answer, and Clark snorted as he reached for the human-sized teddy bear that had been dropped at his side in Goliath’s excitement.

“You want to play fetch?”

 _“Ruff!”_ Goliath let out a rather enthusiastic bark that sent warm air rushing over Clark’s face, and Clark rolled his eyes as he tossed the stuffed bear across the longer length of the Cave with a flick of his wrist.

Goliath bounded after what Damian had dubbed his “baby” with a happy yip and footsteps that probably shook the Manor, and no matter how many times Bruce tried to tell Clark the story, Clark would never understand how Damian had convinced his father to keep the beast.

Certainly, Clark was happy that Damian was happy that Bruce had let Damian keep Goliath because he acted just like an overgrown dog, but somehow Clark just couldn’t picture how that conversation between Damian and Bruce had gone.

Clark threw the stuffed animal for Goliath five or six more times before he made his way over to one of the refrigerators and pulled out one of the giant slab of ribs. Goliath’s head snapped around at the smell of the meat and blood, and Clark watched on in amusement as he bounded over towards his nest—knowing he wouldn’t be fed until he’d gone through the proper routine of sitting and waiting patiently for one of the two-legs to bring him his feast. Clark kept up a constant stream of babble as he went through the motions of unwrapping the meat, and Goliath surged forward and ripped into the ribs as soon as Clark gave him the signal to eat. Clark continued to hum to himself as he washed the blood from his hands, but he quickly quieted down as a noise in the distance caught his attention.

Clark turned off the sink and drifted through the Cave a moment later as he super-sped his hand dry, and he smiled as the loud rumbles of the Bat Mobile’s engines hummed and thrummed down the Tunnel a second later.

Bruce was absolutely hauling ass—as Batman and Bruce Wayne alike were always wont to do—and Clark’s smile quickly devolved into a snicker as the Bat Mobile slid and skidded to a stop in front of him. Clark crossed his arms over his chest as the engine revved a couple of times, before Bruce finally killed the power and the airlocks hissed as the top slid up and forward to reveal a grinning Bruce inside.

“Wasn’t expecting you to be here already.”

“You don’t know me at all, then,” Clark rolled his eyes, reaching up to cup the side of Bruce’s jaw as the shorter man finally dropped down to the floor in front of him. Bruce’s lips were soft and warm—as they always were—and Clark smiled as a slight moan rumbled up and out of his chest. “Everything go okay at the meeting?”

“More or less,” Bruce shrugged, taking a step back so that he could push around Clark as he started stripping himself out of the more peripheral aspects of the suit, like the gloves and some of the holsters up his arms. “Ollie and Diana were going at it when I left, but J’onn and John had things under control. Do we know when dinner’s going to be ready?”

“Nope,” Clark shook his head, following after Bruce and wrapping his arms around his husband’s waist when he finally came to a stop in front of the Bat Computer and started typing his various passwords into the keyboards. “But everything else is ready. All we’re waiting for is you and Damian.”

“Is Damian okay?” Bruce immediately stiffened.

“Yes, darling,” Clark turned to press a comforting kiss to Bruce’s cowl-mussed hair. “Damian is fine. He’s just spent most of the day resting.”

“Alright,” Bruce relaxed again, his fingers resuming their quick tapping pace as he settled himself more firmly against Clark’s stomach and chest. “Was Ma able to come, too?”

“Yep,” Clark settled his chin back down against Bruce’s shoulder. “I believe she brought a new book for you to read, too.”

“Wonderful,” Bruce smiled, his eyes crinkling around the corners as he scrolled through what he’d just typed. “Just give me a minute and I’ll be up to join you—I just need to make sure this saved, and I want to take a shower.”

“Okay,” Clark agreed, pressing one last kiss to Bruce’s cheek before he pulled away, knowing that Bruce would keep his word. “But don’t forget to give Goliath his dessert before you come up.”

“I won’t,” Bruce nodded his head dutifully as Clark headed back over towards the stairs. “Strawberries and bananas—I know the drill.”

-

“You are such a dork,” Damian could hear Jason and the rest of the family as he made his way closer and closer to the warmth of the fire cracking in the human-sized hearth, but the sight of the rest of the family spread out through out the room still caught Damian a little off guard.

“I am not,” Dick protested, but his words were undermined but the smile on his face and the way that he leaned over to capture Jason’s lips with his own. Damian quickly looked away from the couple sprawled out on their stomachs on the floor, but it was all too obvious what the two men were doing, no matter where Damian looked.

The sun had long since set outside of the giant windows, so the only light came from the fireplace and the candles placed randomly around the rooms, and Damian carefully took stock of the rest of the occupants as he made his way into the room. Father and the older Kent were set on the couch facing away from the interior wall—a mug of what smelled like coffee in Father’s hands as they sat leaned into each other with Kent’s arm wrapped around Father’s shoulders and a heavy looking blanket spread over their legs.

Both men looked up and smiled at the sound of Damian’s footsteps and Damian sent them a small nod of acknowledgement before he moved on to the rest of the room.

Brown and Cain sat at their feet—Cain quite literally leaning up against Father’s legs—with their mobile sleeping rolls spread out underneath of them and some form of board game between them. Brown was gesturing quite animatedly as she spoke of something and moved her piece according to whatever the rules of the game were, while Cain merely nodded in that quiet little way that she had as she watched.

The one that Damian been told to refer to as Ma was on the opposite couch with the female Gordon, both with blankets wrapped around their shoulders to stave off the cold. They both had mugs in their hands—just like father—as they spoke quietly back and forth, but Damian’s guess was that they were drinking tea instead of coffee. An open bag sat where Gordon’s feet would have been, were they not tucked up underneath of herself like they usually were when she was sitting somewhere that wasn’t her chair, and Damian could see the shape of the boxes inside, along side the pile of board games and unopened packages of playing cards beside the bag.

Dick and Jason were in just about the center of the room, laying on their stomachs with their heads pointed up towards the fireplace, and as awkward as it made Damian feel, it was also nice to see them showing each other such affection as they held metal sticks adorned with marshmallows towards the heat of the fire.

Drake was sitting on the floor on the far side of Jason, somewhere around the elder’s waist, and the younger Kent was stretched out on his back in front of him, shoes and socks off with his feet only a foot or so away from the burning wood and the soft embers that warmed the room and gave off the most pleasant of scents. Another step or two forward confirmed that the Kryptonian had his head pillowed across Drake’s crisscrossed legs, and the lovesick look in his eyes as he watched Drake yammer on about something over top of his head was slightly nauseating. Drake’s right hand rested somewhere on the Kryptonian’s shoulder, while the other worked on the jigsaw puzzle spread out on the floor by Drake’s left hip, and Damian knew all it would take was one slight stretch in order for Drake to reach the phone and the laptop resting just beyond it. Kent—the moron—had a metal stick in one hand, and a gummy worm in the other, and Damian rolled his eyes as he settled himself down into the free space in between Dick and Brown.

“Oh—hey, Little D,” Dick sent a smile back over his shoulder at Damian, and Damian bit back his usual retort as Alfred the Cat jumped down off of Damian’s shoulder onto Dick’s back. “Want a s’mores?”

“I guess,” Damian shrugged, taking the graham cracker sandwich as Dick held it out to him. Titus thumped down at his right, his nose immediately nudging its way into Damian’s lap, and Damian’s empty hand automatically fell down to rest on Titus’ head. Alfred, the little traitor, settled himself down onto the swell of Jason’s posterior, and preened as Tim leaned over to coo and press kisses to the top of his head. Damian huffed in indignation and glared at the feline for a moment before he turned his attention back to the treat in his hand and eyed it wearily. “We are having a roast for dinner, are we not?”

“Yes, Master Damian,” Pennyworth answered from behind him, and Damian’s head automatically snapped around so that he could look up at the elderly butler. A large wooden tray sat between his hands, and Damian could smell the freshly brewed tea in the mugs that sat upon it. “However, it will still be another hour or so before they are done. Would you like a cup of tea?”

“Yes, please,” Damian nodded his head, reaching up with his right hand to take it. Damian’s thigh and hip were pressed up tightly against Dick’s side, but the heat of the drink was still welcome against Damian’s cold fingers, and Damian blew softly at the steam rising off of its surface as the scents of cinnamon and cardamom and cloves assaulted his nose. Pennyworth’s rocking chair of choice gave a soft creak as Pennyworth settled down into it after handing Drake a mug of his own—no doubt filled with plain water because Drake was a _child_ —and Damian took a tentative bite of his s’mores as he settled his mug down against his shin, so that none of its heat would be lost to the ever imposing chill of the snow.

The origins of the “Power Outage Tradition” eluded Damian despite Damian’s best efforts to understand the stories that Dick and Father had told him over the years. Why Dick insisted they all sit around what more or less equated to a Neolithic _campfire_ when there was more than enough money in the Wayne family coffers to fund generators that could power the entire Manor for _months_ completely mystified Damian, but Dick was warm against Damian’s side, and the inevitable explosion of chocolate and sugar against Damian’s tongue was more than satisfactory, so the boy contented himself with watching the fire crack in the hearth as he listened to the deep rumble of his father’s voice as Jason and Dick acted like the love sick couple they were beside him and the storm raged on outside of the frosted over window to Damian’s left.

**Author's Note:**

> Lyrics—  
> “Should Out to My Ex” written by Edvard Førre Erfjord, Henrik Michelsen, Camille Purcell, Iain James, Perrie Edwards, Jesy Nelson, Leigh-Anne Pinnock, and Jade Thirlwall.  
> “Holding Out for a Hero” written by Jim Steinman and Dean Pitchford.
> 
> As always, thank you for taking the time to read and please let me know what you think :)


End file.
